In the heart of Clover Town, the ancient meeting of guild masters had just concluded. Tensions had run high for days, as rumors of a demonic resurrection circulated throughout the continent. Security was tight. Mage guilds stood united for once, suspicious eyes scanning every shadow.
But evil, as always, had found its way through the cracks.
Outside the hall, a lone figure stood—Kageyama, rogue mage, traitor to his own kin, and pawn of something far darker than himself.
His fingers trembled as they hovered over the mouthpiece of the Cursed Flute, the black instrument pulsing with a sinister life of its own. He knew what would happen once the melody began. He had seen the visions. Felt the ecstasy of destruction promised to him.
But then—
A soft voice.
"What are you doing, kid?"
Kageyama turned to find Makarov Dreyar, Guild Master of Fairy Tail, standing behind him, short and unassuming, with a light smile and an air of warm curiosity.
"I was just practicing my music," Kageyama lied quickly. "I wandered here by mistake. It would be an honor if you listened, Master Makarov."
The old man chuckled and waved.
"Alright, alright. But don't go too hard on my old ears."
Kageyama hesitated.
He had every reason to play. Every command from his guild, every threat, every promise of power.
And yet… in front of him stood a man radiating peace. The town around him bustled with laughter, magic, and life. It was good. Too good.
Too real.
He lowered the flute.
"No need to be nervous," Makarov encouraged kindly. "I won't be judging."
From a distance, Natsu, Lucy, Gray, and Erza arrived just in time to witness the confrontation. They tried to rush forward—but were held back by the other guild masters.
Makarov's gaze shifted, and the situation clicked into place.
"With you all gone," Kageyama muttered, his voice shaking, "the world would be a better place…"
Makarov didn't move. "What will change? You'll still be a weakling. The world will keep spinning—with or without chaos. Is that what you want? A world that burns just so you can feel like you matter?"
Those words struck deep. Kageyama's eyes widened in despair.
His ambitions crumbled.
He dropped the flute.
But fate wasn't finished.
A wind—unnatural and malevolent—rushed through the street. The flute let out a ghastly shriek, reacting on its own. Shadows erupted from its carved wood, wrapping around Kageyama's body and forcing him to play as his mouth was dragged forward against his will.
Too late.
The melody filled the air like a funeral dirge.
Reality twisted.
The earth cracked.
A towering nightmare clawed its way into the world.
The demon, once imprisoned within the flute, had emerged.
It stood forty meters tall, with skin like rusted metal, three blood-red eyes glowing with hatred, jagged holes punched through its body that leaked shadows like smoke. One massive head loomed over the town, fangs dripping ichor. Its arms ended in blades. Its roar shattered windows and froze hearts.
"I… LIVE ONCE MORE!"
Civilians screamed and scattered. The guild mages sprang into action, forming battle lines as magic circles flared to life. Makarov expanded his body into Titan Form.
"EVERYONE, FORM UP! PROTECT THE TOWN!"
Natsu's fists ignited.
Erza swapped into battle armor.
Gray called on his ice.
Lucy summoned spirits.
And Kageyama lay unconscious, the cursed flute now shattered beside him.
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The fire crackled softly in the clearing, casting flickering shadows across the forest floor. Naruto sat cross-legged, a wooden skewer in one hand, biting into a perfectly roasted mushroom. A fresh cut of deer meat—Ark's donation—sizzled on a flat stone near the flames.
A wine flask rested beside him.
"It's been some time since I cooked," Naruto murmured with a nostalgic smile, letting the smoky aroma warm his soul. "But it's still tasty. Guess I can still do a bit of magic with chakra—even with food."
"Can't let you down, can I, Choji?"
He chuckled, imagining his old friend drooling over the meal.
The sky was peaceful. The wilderness undisturbed.
Until the air trembled.
A roar echoed across the land—not just loud, but primordial, shaking the bones and tugging at the soul. Naruto's eyes snapped open, calm and clear as they traced the direction of the sound. He saw it—a massive demon, distant yet unmistakable. Towering, angry, grotesque.
He stood slowly, brushing the dust off his clothes.
"People are in danger," Naruto said with a quiet smile. "It seems… they need me again."
He raised his right hand, and the sky parted.
From beyond the clouds, a golden pillar of chakra descended silently. No thunder. No explosions. Just light—pure, divine, absolute—as if the hand of judgment itself had reached down from the heavens.
The demon never stood a chance.
The moment the light touched its form, it ceased to exist—no screams, no struggle. It was erased from the world, body and soul, as if it had never been there.
Back in the clearing, Ark—the proud Arcanine—had frozen mid-bite, mouth hanging open as he watched the golden light fade.
"What is that?" he finally asked, voice low, awed.
Naruto leaned back casually, resuming his meal.
"A punishment," he said. "For naughty children."
The old fox grinned as he chewed his meat, the wine now tasting just a little sweeter.
Ark looked at him with new eyes.
This wasn't just some random wanderer with wild hair and a kind smile. This was a man who commanded judgment from the heavens—who erased monstrosities like flicking away a bug.
'He is definitely someone of great power… But what is he doing here? Is this some divine mission? A hidden quest? A legendary journey?' Ark's heart pounded with excitement.
'I knew it. This isn't just travel. This is destiny.'
And so, the beast walked proudly beside his master, now more determined than ever to earn his place.
----------------------
A crater of silence settled over the once-endangered Clover Town, its skies still faintly tinged with golden afterglow. Where there should have been a rampaging demon, there was now just scorched stone, melted earth, and—strangely—no fear.
Only awe.
Lucy clutched her keys tighter, still looking toward the sky.
"What just happened?" she asked, trying to steady her breathing. "Where did it go?"
Gray had no answer. Neither did the other guild masters, who had gathered with Makarov on the edge of the council steps, dumbfounded.
The elderly master was still in shock, but not from fear.
'There was no aura. No pressure. Just… peace.'
He had felt it. The golden energy that erased the demon did not threaten. It didn't roar like dragon magic or explode like dark spells. It simply was—calm, radiant, vast. It reminded him of a warm memory, long buried.
'Like being held in the arms of a father…'
Makarov frowned.
"Who did it? What kind of magic was that? Demon Slayer? No… it was too pure."
Natsu stomped a foot in frustration, fists clenched.
"Man, I wanted to fight that thing!"
CRACK!
"OW! What the hell, Erza?!"
Erza's fist still sizzled from the blow to Natsu's head.
"Don't say those cursed words, you idiot," she snapped. "People would have died. That thing could have flattened mountains with its magic."
"But still… I would've gone all out!" Natsu grumbled, rubbing his head.
Lucy sighed.
"Sometimes I wonder how we're still alive..."
Gray folded his arms, eyes narrowing. "Makarov. Do you know anything about that light?"
Makarov looked at him… then at the spot where the demon once stood… and smiled.
"Can't you tell?"
The others blinked.
"It doesn't matter," Natsu declared, throwing an arm over Lucy's shoulder. "The demon's toast. Whoever helped us must be a good guy, right?"
"Hahaha! You're right!" Makarov laughed, letting the tension finally slip from his shoulders. "Maybe I've been overthinking things. No need to chase ghosts when a miracle shows up!"
But not all were satisfied with that answer.
Erza remained still, her sharp eyes never leaving the vanishing trail of golden dust in the sky.
"I'll be staying behind," she finally said. "Just for a day. For safety reasons."
Makarov nodded. He knew her well—too well to argue.
"Be careful. And if you find whoever did this… thank them."
----------------
The first golden ray of dawn broke through the canopy and kissed the forest floor with warmth. Birds stirred in their nests, the wind whispered through the leaves—and in the center of a small clearing, Naruto Uzumaki stood bare-chested, facing the morning with the focus of a warrior.
The light revealed a body carved by hardship and war: scarred, powerful, yet calm.
His torso bore the marks of his final battle—thin, blackened scars etched across chest and back, arms and legs. They shimmered faintly with residual chakra, unable to fully heal. The wounds were unique—inflicted by weapons designed to negate regeneration itself, for all who fought in that war had transcended mortality in some way.
Each scar was a story. A loss. A lesson. A truth.
But Naruto wore them with pride. He remembered Hinata's words clearly:
"They look sexy on you."
And so he didn't hide them. He honored them.
As always, he entered his ritual—a silent kata passed through generations, refined in countless battles. His movements were deliberate, fluid, yet sharp—like wind swirling around a blade. Every twist, every step, every breath carried weight.
His soul moved with him.
In his mind, he faced his old foes—Kaguya, Momoshiki, Ishiki, and even Madara. As his muscles shifted with grace and power, spectral silhouettes flickered for an instant—phantoms of the enemies he had once stood against. His strikes seemed to pierce air itself, his blocks trembling with imagined impact.
From a distance, even a novice would know:
This wasn't training. This was memory in motion.
A voice broke the silence.
"Did you enjoy it?" Naruto asked as he halted, chest rising and falling with effort, his body glistening with sweat.
Ark, his companion, had watched in silent awe, eyes wide like a student in his first lesson.
"It looked fun," Ark said. "How do I do it?"
Naruto chuckled softly, wiping his face with a cloth.
"You'll learn once you've fought enough. When battle stops being noise and becomes rhythm—you'll understand."
With a lazy wave of his hand, a floating tub of warm, mineral-rich water appeared midair—chakra-born, steaming with comfort. Naruto stepped into it and sighed deeply, the tension melting from his body. Beside him hovered a small tray with a bowl of fruit, honeyed nuts, and a cool drink.
"Even warriors need comfort," he muttered.
By noon, they were packed and traveling again, heading for Clover Town. The roads were quiet, and the air was clean. Naruto wore a simple brown cloak over his shoulder, hood down, hair ruffling in the breeze. Ark trotted beside him, tail swaying.
They arrived before four o'clock, just as the town began to hum with late afternoon life.
"We've got time to enjoy the town," Naruto said with a grin. "Let's see what the locals have."
--------------
The gates of Clover Town were built tall, painted a muted gray, and guarded by two watchful sentries. They weren't expecting trouble that morning—until a tall, muscular man with golden-blond hair and a massive beast at his side strolled up with a carefree expression.
"He's not wild," Naruto had assured, smiling calmly. "He listens better than most humans."
Ark, his majestic Arcanine, sat with regal patience, fur catching the light and eyes surveying the guards like he could see through them.
Still, protocol was protocol.
"Arcanine aren't registered familiars or pets. You'll be added to the watch list for tracking."
"Do what you must," Naruto replied, handing over a paper with his alias, then… a surprise: a small box of sweets and a few silver coins.
The guards blinked.
"Good morning," Naruto said with a nod as he walked past.
The moment he was out of earshot—
"Weird guy."
"Yeah, but this stuff's good. So who cares?"
As Naruto entered the town proper, he was struck by the feeling of nostalgia.
Clover Town wasn't advanced like the empires he knew. No hover cars, no towering glass buildings, no artificial limbs. Just cobbled streets, timber-framed homes, and clothes that looked like they belonged to an older, simpler world.
And most importantly—people looked human.
Not genetically spliced or altered like in his world. No cybernetic glow in their veins. No gene-coded arrogance in their eyes.
'Natural. Like always things should be,' Naruto thought.
Following his nose through the bustling market streets, he arrived at a small open stall where a burly man with a bushy mustache was cooking up fried mutton chops. The smell was divine—tender meat, crisp edges, and a tangy herb sauce that made Naruto's mouth water.
"I'll have three packs," he ordered with a grin.
The cook nodded quickly, eyes lingering on Ark but hands steady. He didn't want to provoke a mage. Within minutes, three piping-hot packages were handed over.
Naruto handed the man two golden coins—more than triple the price.
"No need to give change. Consider it my appreciation for good food."
The man's eyes widened at the weight of the coin, but before he could speak, Naruto had already moved on, tossing a mutton chop to Ark—who devoured it in a single bite.
"You need to savor the taste, not inhale it," Naruto chuckled, patting Ark's head.
They walked together, drawing attention.
----------------
Naruto was hard to miss. A tall, broad-shouldered figure with snow-white hair that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. It fell just past his shoulders, wild but regal, like a mane of a battle-hardened lion. His golden eyes, however, were what truly drew people in—eyes that held kindness, grief, and unshakable resolve all at once.
He wore a simple brown cloak over loose traveling clothes, but there was no hiding the scarred and honed form underneath. The way he walked was silent and fluid, like a predator used to war yet at peace with the world.
And then there was Ark—his massive Arcanine companion—striding beside him like a living flame made flesh. Heads turned. Conversations paused.
Children stared in awe. Adults in wary curiosity.
Yet Naruto smiled at them all, waving out of habit—just a flick of his wrist and a warm grin. A gesture from a man who used to carry the weight of nations.
"Right… I'm not the Hokage anymore," he reminded himself.
But maybe… I'm still me.
------------------
As Naruto wandered through the town, soaking in the rustic charm, his gaze caught a flicker of red—vibrant and wild like fire in the wind. It was a girl, young but strong, her posture proud, her spirit unmistakable.
She reminded him of the Uzumaki clan—of Kushina, of home.
He stepped closer with a warm smile. "Little one, what are you looking for?"
Erza turned sharply, her sharp brown eyes scanning him up and down. She found no threat—just a calm, white-haired man with a relaxed smile and a giant beast beside him. But there was something else... an undercurrent of power too deep to grasp.
"I'm looking for the one who created the golden light last night," she answered bluntly. "I want to say thank you."
Naruto chuckled softly. "Then come with me. I'll show you the way."
Before Erza could protest, he gently took her hand—not forcefully, but with the kind of ease and confidence that only came from someone used to leading. Something about him felt genuine. And so, out of curiosity more than trust, she followed.
They wandered through the town's hidden alleys and vibrant plazas. Naruto sampled spicy dumplings, watched enchanted puppets dance, debated with old shopkeepers about ancient blade designs, and admired silly fashion trends.
Erza, at first wary, eventually found herself drawn into it.
Hours passed. She laughed. Once. Maybe twice.
But then, her serious side snapped back. "Are you messing with me?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Naruto grinned, sipping a strange fruit juice. "No, I just wanted you to enjoy the day. Didn't we have fun?"
"Yes—no! I mean…" she frowned, flustered. "I had a mission. You wasted my time."
Naruto stepped closer, eyes gleaming with challenge. "Time spent smiling is never wasted, little one. Besides…"
Suddenly, the ground rumbled, and the earth beneath them lifted, forming a 10-meter-high platform—a circular stone arena, clean and firm. Magic hummed softly through the air.
"You want your answer? Beat me in a fight."
His cloak fluttered off as he stood there shirtless, battle-scarred and smiling. "If you win, you get a reward too."
Erza's heart pounded. This wasn't an ordinary man.
"Who are you?" she demanded, summoning her armor in a flash of light.
"Naruto Uzumaki, a wandering dreamer."